


Brief Elapses of Time

by goldilocks23



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Crack, Drunk Zuko (Avatar), Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Post-Canon, Spirit Shenanigans, ZK Drabble December 2020, Zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks23/pseuds/goldilocks23
Summary: Written for ZK Drabble December 2020. A collection of Zutara stories with varied genres.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 227
Kudos: 202
Collections: ZK Drabble December 2020





	1. Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to princess_zel and antarcticas for putting this event together!
> 
> Chapter Summary: Zuko experiences his first polar night.

A weak sun sinks behind a distant glacier, glinting briefly off the ice as the last taunt before it is swallowed by the darkness blanketing this frigid world. The finality of it hangs in the air, tendrils wrapping around him and squeezing.

It is the last time Zuko will see daylight for four months. And he has no time to soak in what remains of it before he is suddenly, violently smothered.

He had spent weeks in daily meditations to equip himself for this, but no amount of breathing exercises could have prepared him to be doused and deprived of oxygen.

His knees buckle and meet snow. Somewhere, muffled by his roaring blood and the choked desperation spilling from his lips and the hissing of a dying flame, he hears a voice.

“Zuko,” it whispers.

There are gloved hands on his face, cupping his icy cheeks.

“Breathe.”

Katara.

The air freezes in the back of his throat when he sucks in a shallow breath, but he does as she says. Her voice swims closer to the front of his awareness.

“Breathe, Zuko. Like we practiced.”

He tries again, and the polar winds whistle through his screaming lungs. He will never be warm again.

Katara’s hands are in his hair, brushing it off his face as it whips around his head. 

“Zuko, the moon will be full tonight.”

The moon. There had been something about the moon. Why can he no longer remember?

“Just a little longer. Then you’ll have the moon.”

Zuko is distantly aware of his head bobbing up and down. She tugs him forward until his body is pressed against hers, his head tucked under her chin. The only sound now is the chattering of his teeth; the only sensation Katara’s sealskin parka against his cheek.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass. Zuko’s blood blazes a desperate path toward the pile of embers in his stomach, leaving pins and needles in its wake. His waterbender’s whispered reminders— _breathe, keep breathing—_ become mantras in the haze of his mind until he can no longer tell whether or not she is speaking aloud.

“Zuko.” She shakes him, pushing gently on his shoulders until he is facing her. “Zuko, look at me.”

His eyelids are leaden when he cracks them apart to meet her gaze. Her ocean eyes are wide as saucers, sparkling in—

Behind him, the barest hint of warmth seeps through the furs on his back.

—the moonlight.

_‘During the polar night, you’ll have to rely on the moon to keep your inner fire going. Even when the sun doesn’t rise, its light still reflects off the moon’s surface.’_

_‘Just like you, waterbender.’_

He had laughed then, but now as he takes in a shuddering gulp of air and feels it kindle low in his abdomen—not quite satisfying but _bearable—_ he finds himself sending a silent prayer of thanks to Tui.

Katara’s smile is hopeful. “How do you feel? Haven’t changed your mind about living here?”

In answer, he kisses her soundly.

—And then pulls away abruptly, a renewed fear twisting in his gut. “Katara, what am I going to do during the new moon?”

To his surprise, she laughs and pulls him closer, bringing his lips back to hers.

“We’ll have the aurora for that.”


	2. Please Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spirit of candor decides the Fire Lord needs some help in his love life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this extremely on-the-nose interpretation of day two's prompt: Please Don't Lie

The spirit Sotchoku always found the affairs of mortals to be dreadfully dull. Most of them did little more than step on each other for personal gain in their brief lives. For the most part, she ignored them. The Hundred Year War only exacerbated her cynicism as she watched the Fire Nation royal family lie and deceive its own countrymen for the sake of absolute power.

So she couldn’t help her piqued interest when the new young Fire Lord, so unlike the ones that came before him, promised to rectify the tyranny of his ancestors. She could see his mind perfectly—it wasn’t like the rest of them.

Zuko had never been a good liar. He knew it. Everyone around him knew it.

During his first year as Fire Lord, it was a problem. Zuko was honorable; this is what he kept reminding both himself and the council members who _insisted_ that it was okay—necessary, even—for a politician to tell a lie here and there.

It started to get him in trouble when he showed his hand too soon during trade negotiations or sent his advisers into a panic over the cost of reparations. Even more so when he nearly revealed his identity as the Blue Spirit during a council meeting.

For all his talk of honor, it didn’t take him long to realize that lying was simply _part of the job._ Honor be damned when King Kuei nearly reignited the war after Zuko failed to adequately compliment his new haircut.

Even the spirit of candor could not argue with that.

So he learned, and Sotchoku watched. It took many nights sitting in a dark cell with his sister, many days practicing with the blind earthbender, but he learned. And he got really, really good at it.

At first, it was all relatively harmless, and the boy’s tendency to lie for self-preservation purposes was admittedly endearing. His new habit of dishonesty was tolerable—especially when he needed to root out a traitor in his council or sneak off and be Lee from the tea shop for a few weeks.

Sotchoku could admit to herself that she had grown to care for the young Fire Lord—she was the spirit of candor, after all.

So, she did not deny her sympathy when his lies became a crutch.

It was not just the frequency of his dishonesty—though, that in itself was concerning—but that Zuko seemed to have a special knack for lying to _himself_ , specifically.

The waterbender, Katara, was visiting again. It went as it usually did, with Zuko avoiding her at all costs. She was in love with the Avatar, Zuko told himself. It was just a silly little crush, he told himself. He would get over it, he told himself.

The Fire Sages were pestering him to marry. He told them there were no suitable candidates.

Sotchoku sighed, resigned. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

“Are you enjoying your tea, Fire Lord Zuko?”

The Fire Lord glanced up from the scroll he was reading and smiled. “No. I wish I could fire you and replace you with my uncle—but nepotism, and all.”

Zuko froze, and the tea server burst into tears before running from the room.

Well, it had been a few millennia since she had interfered in mortal affairs. There were bound to be some kinks to work out.

* * *

In hindsight, Sotchoku could admit that her meddling may have been poorly-conceived. A Fire Lord who could not tell a single lie was objectively not a very good Fire Lord.

In only a few days, Zuko had managed to wreak utter havoc with his sudden honesty. Be it personal insults or diplomatic blunders, the Fire Lord’s political career was crumbling before Sotchoku’s very eyes.

On top of all of that, he was _still_ avoiding the waterbender. Well, and everyone else for that matter.

He had attempted to tell his staff he was not feeling well and needed a few days to recoup, but he had instead said, very calmly, “I can’t lie anymore, so I’m going to hide out in my bedroom until I die.”

Despite the grim prospects, Sotchoku held out hope. Because that didn't stop the waterbender from ambushing him in said bedroom after he had not left it in two days.

The guards posted outside the door parted for her without hesitation—perhaps because Zuko had called them ‘ _lazy imbeciles who couldn’t do their jobs if an assassin walked directly into their spears_ ’ the day before.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” Katara started.

Zuko was a pair of wary gold eyes peeking at her over the quilt he had pulled over most of his face.

“…Zuko, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” she continued when he did not speak.

Again, no response. Sotchoku held her breath.

Katara huffed and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the massive bed. “I won’t leave until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” She was telling the truth. Zuko knew it, too. “Well, more than usual,” she added.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, smoke curling into the air from his nostrils.

“Because I’m in love with you. Ridiculously in love with you. I have been for three years. I love you, and I—” _want you to be Fire Lady. I want you to have my children and grow old with me._

Sotchoku cut him off before he could blurt the second part of that sentence. Didn’t want to scare the waterbender away.

“—was avoiding you because…I was scared.”

She allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk because even with his ability to lie restored, Zuko had not lied at that moment—to himself or Katara.

And when Katara surged forward and kissed him, hope bloomed. 

Days later, it was officially announced that Fire Lord Zuko had begun courting Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

It was _also_ announced that the Fire Lord had recently been infected by a bizarre parasite that had caused him to tell egregious mistruths, which Sotchoku supposed she could forgive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop a comment! Say hi on Tumblr anonymously if you're shy! I want to hear your thoughts on this cracky disaster.


	3. Heavy Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's to say a heart can't be heavy because it is full?

_With heavy hearts, the Order of the White Lotus announces the passing of Avatar Aang, world savior, liaison of spirits, father of Bumi, father of Kya, father of Tenzin. All are invited to pay respects at a service to be held at the Southern Air Temple on the winter solstice._

* * *

“We missed you at the funeral.”

Zuko’s head shoots up from the pile of papers on his desk. “Katara?”

He is out of his seat and across the room in seconds, scooping her into an embrace that nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbles into her hair.

“Hi,” she breathes. She doesn’t have an answer for him.

Zuko pulls back slightly, gold eyes searching her face. Something flashes briefly in them when he looks at her—something neither of them will acknowledge.

Katara reaches up, threading her fingers through his hair. “You cut it short again.”

He smiles shyly, glancing back toward his pile of work before taking the hand that’s still in his hair, and entwining their fingers. “Take a walk with me?”

In answer she tugs his hand, leading him from the room and down the bright corridor outside his office.

Neither of them speaks until they reach the palace gardens, taking a seat in the dappled shade of a willow tree.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there, Katara,” Zuko says quietly. His thumb rubs circles onto her hand, eyes burning holes into the side of her head.

“Don’t be. It was…” She shrugs. “Don’t be.”

“Are you okay? Where are the kids?”

She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, shooting him a sideways glance. “Actually… they’re here with me. I left them in the daycare.”

Zuko is silent for several minutes after that, the implication of her words descending over them both like a veil. His thumb pauses its stroking briefly before continuing at a faster pace—as if he is hoping she didn’t notice him falter.

“You didn’t answer my first question,” he says finally.

Katara shifts so that she faces him fully now, meeting his eyes with as much confidence as she can muster. “Yes. I’m…. I’m more than okay, Zuko. I’m good.”

The disbelieving furrow in his brow is enough of an indicator for his next words, so she cuts him off before they can leave his lips. “Aang and I—well, we hadn’t spoken in years, really, save for switching off with the kids. And then he was sick for so long…”

She pauses, chewing her lip. “There was time. The kids had time to be—to say their goodbyes. The kids are alright. And I feel _good_ , Zuko. It’s like there’s this—my heart just feels… _full_. Like whatever guilt that was there before has just been replaced by something else. Does that make me a bad person?”

She’s rambling now, and her voice is starting to thicken, and _why are you crying? You just said that you’re good. You’re happy. Stop crying._

Zuko closes the distance between them, tucking her against his chest, arms winding around her waist. His body’s warmth is uncomfortable in the soupy Fire Nation heat, but she melts against him anyway.

“You’re the best person I know, Katara.” He is unwavering, resolute.

“I should be sad,” she whispers. “I should be grieving the Avatar.”

She feels his head shake. “You aren’t obligated to do or be anything.”

They stay like that for an unknowable amount of time, neither feeling the need to pull away, or move, or to do anything but soak each other in.

And somewhere, in the space between stuttering heartbeats, Katara finds the courage to say what she had come all the way to the Fire Nation to tell him.

“Do you mind if I stay here a while?”

The arms around her tighten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! (If you did - hit that kudos button. It won't bite and it make author happy)


	4. Blame It On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a break-in at the Omori outlet at Ba Sing Se Mall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See below for an attempt to worldbuild a modern AU with only dialogue in less than 1000 words.

“Morning, Kat—oh _fuck._ Oh spirits, oh fuck. What happened here?”

“I don’t—oh. Oh…my gods. I didn’t lock up or set the alarm last night. Oh fuck, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault, and I’m going to get fired. I can’t lose this job, what am I—”

“Katara, it’s okay. Just explain to me exactly what happened.”

“I—fuck. I was closing up, and I got a call from the hospital about my Gran Gran, and I had to run out of here to meet my dad. I think I—I must’ve just forgotten! What can we do? How can we fix this? Do we—how much was stolen?”

“Okay, first, let’s just take a second to calm down. It’ll be okay. I’ll call the police.”

“I can’t just—you don’t understand. I _need_ this job. I—”

“Hi, I’m calling from the Omori outlet at Ba Sing Se Mall. We had a break-in last night, looks like most of the merchandise on the floor was stolen, but I’m not sure about the back…no, they came after closing…we haven’t had a chance to check the footage yet…yeah, okay….okay. Thanks. See you soon.”

“Spirits. Zuko, we have to call Zhao and tell him what happened now. And he’s going to kill me or fire me. Or both.”

“Kat.”

“Definitely both. And now I have to break the news to my dad. And with Gran Gran in the hospital she—”

“ _Katara.”_

“I’m sorry, I just—I don’t know what to do. This job is all I have and—”

“Just blame it on me.”

“…What?”

“Blame it on me. I was closing last night. I forgot to lock up and set the alarm.”

“Zuko. Spirits, no. Zhao would _definitely_ fire you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need this job.”

“Zuko, no. Absolutely not. I can’t let you do that for me.”

“I insist. Here, come with me to the back. We can get into Zhao’s computer and retroactively change the schedule.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Come on. I’m doing it now, whether you like it or not. We don’t have much time before the police get here. I have to erase the security footage of you leaving the store, too.”

“Isn’t that tampering with evidence?”

“Probably. What do you think Zhao’s password is?”

“I—thank you, Zuko. This is…this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“What about _theadmiral_? He’s always calling himself that…damn, no.”

“Oh, try _admiralmoonslayer_.”

“Moonslayer?”

“I did some light drunken social media stalking a few months ago. Another self-given nickname of his.”

“Admiral…moonslayer…holy fuck. That actually worked. You’re a genius, Kat. I’ll start with the security footage. What time did you leave last night?”

“Around 9:15.”

“Perfect, there you are. Oh wow, you _did_ leave in a rush. Are you—I’m really sorry to hear about your grandmother. Is she going to be okay?”

“Thanks. Um, yeah, she is. We just had a bit of a scare last night…oh shit, you actually deleted it!”

“Yup. Now I just have to switch our names in the schedule for this week…and, done.”

“Zuko, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Like I said, I don’t need this job.”

“Still, I…thank you. So much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Of course, Katara. Anything for you.”

“…So, um…the police will be here soon. We should—we should probably call Zhao.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. We should.”

“And um. Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, since you’re probably getting fired…do you think we could, I don’t know. Exchange numbers? Or something?”

“Or something?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s only fair that I buy you at least a couple of dinners as a thank you. Maybe more than a couple.”

“…Yeah, Kat. I’d really like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya liked this little experiment. If so, the kudos button is right there friends :)


	5. Little Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko can't stop thinking about Katara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: little bit of angst

She is everywhere.

He sees her eyes blinking at him in the spray of the sea, the gulls crying her name as they drift over the waves. She moves in the shifting sands of Ember Island beaches, in memories of forbidden touches and whispered conversations about the future.

The fire lilies that litter the gardens smell of her damp hair in the mornings and the times she let him comb it for her. The breeze sends ripples like her trailing fingers across the surface of the turtle duck pond.

Her cooking wafts from the palace kitchens, the heady scent of dinner under the stars at the Western Air Temple. When it hits his tongue, he tastes ash.

He spends long nights in his office putting ink to parchment, reading over his missives in her voice. There is still an extra chair in the corner for her to read her scrolls while he worked.

When it rains, he thinks of damp cheeks and fingers carding through his dripping hair. He stands outside in it, eyes skyward and fluttering; lets it soak him through, allows her to wash over him.

Even the sun, her elemental opposite—it is her smile, bright and warm, and the only thing keeping the fire burning low in his belly.

But the fire is beginning to fizzle out the lower he sinks underwater. The concerns of his uncle, of his staff, they sound far away to his ears now.

There are pieces of her everywhere. But the largest is lodged in his chest; a knife, twisting as it digs through flesh and bone, punishingly slow. It is missing his vital organs, but he knows that soon it will bleed him out.

Maybe he’ll let it.

Often at night, she is there on the balcony, bending streams into shapes, like she did when she wanted to show him a new form she had been working on.

Sometimes he pretends that she is real. Sometimes he pretends that she hasn't been laid to rest on the ocean floor at the edge of the world.

When the moon is full, he leaves their bedroom curtains open, allowing its light to permeate the empty space next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you enjoyed (or didn't), let me know!


	6. Are You Lonely?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko suffers complications after an assassination attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I'm sorry about this one.

“Palace healer says today isn’t a good day.”

Katara hardly spares the guard a glance. “That’s okay. Let me see him, please.”

He sighs, stepping aside and opening the door to the Fire Lord’s chambers. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The curtains are drawn when she enters his room, leaving the Zuko-shaped lump in the bed shrouded in darkness. She sidles over to the chair that sits waiting next to him, angling it so she can move nearer.

Up close, Katara can see that he has pulled the quilt she made him up to his chin. He doesn’t look at her when she sits down, his eyes glassy and fixed on the ceiling.

“I brought you lunch,” she murmurs, setting a wrapped bundle of dumplings on his bedside table next to an untouched cup of tea.

Zuko shoots the steaming bundle a sideways glance before turning his gaze onto her, and the look in his eyes sends her stomach plummeting to her feet.

Not a spark of recognition today.

To punctuate her suspicion, he speaks. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Swallowing her heart, she decides to heed the guard’s warning. “I’m Min. One of your healers.”

The confused furrow in his brow smoothes away. “Oh. Hi Min. Sorry. I—for some reason, I’ve been having trouble remembering things, lately.”

Katara offers him a tight smile as she helps him sit up. His chest is bare and scarred from a life he no longer knows.

“I know. But that’s okay, Zuko. I’m here to help you.”

She calls water from the tap in the washroom nearby to her hands, pressing them against the back of his head.

“You’re a waterbender?” He swivels around to look at her, gold eyes widened in wonderment.

The hands on his head start to glow, and Zuko relaxes into her healing touch. Blinking back the sudden wetness welling behind her eyes, Katara nods. “And you’re a firebender.”

“A firebender.” He chews his lip. “I think I knew that.”

She is terrified of the answer, but Katara steels herself and asks her next question anyway. “How much do you remember?” She keeps her voice slow, gentle.

Zuko doesn’t speak for several seconds while he gathers his thoughts. Katara moves her hands down to the base of his neck, working out the knots of tension there.

“I remember my name. And um.” He gestures around the dim room with one hand. “I know that this is my bedroom. And I remember my mother—her face, at least. I remember…tea. Drinking tea with…someone.”

She waits for more, for _anything_ else, but the slump in his shoulders tells her that it’s all she will glean from him today. The guard had not exaggerated. At least yesterday, he remembered being a prince, if not the Fire Lord.

“That’s great, Zuko,” she says thickly, removing her hands from him and bending the water into a potted plant in the corner of the room. His eyes follow her movements, that same awestruck look in them from before.

Carefully, Katara unwraps one of the dumplings and hands it to him, their fingers brushing. His smile is sunbeams, and it almost reminds her of _her Zuko_. “Thanks, Min.” He eyes the other dumpling. “Is that one for you?”

Katara nods, then, remembering propriety, makes to stand. It wouldn’t do for a staff member—real or otherwise—to take lunch with the Fire Lord.

But Zuko stops her with a hand on her wrist, sending a jolt up her spine. “Wait. Why don’t you stay here and have lunch with me?”

The hopeful glint in his eyes nearly strangles her. “Okay,” she manages to choke out and retakes her seat.

They eat in stiff silence for a few minutes, during which time Katara attempts to look at _anything_ but the man propped up in the bed next to her.

Her gaze falls back to the bedside table. “Why didn’t you drink your tea? It’s cold now.”

The earlier consternation etches itself back into his expression. “Oh. I must have forgotten it was there.”

All Katara can do is hum her acknowledgment, the lump in her throat growing ever-larger as she stares into her lap, blinking back the traitorous tears.

She can feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing her.

“Are you okay? You seem kind of… I don’t know. Lonely.”

The words catch her off guard. She snaps her head back to look at him. There is unguarded curiosity there, in his kind eyes.

“I am a little bit lonely, yeah,” she says finally, averting her gaze once more.

Zuko frowns. “Don’t you…I don’t know, have anyone?”

Katara sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring as she bites back a small whimper. A warm hand lands on her arm, and that is all it takes for her to throw caution to the winds.

“My betrothed is kind of a big deal, you see. He was poisoned, and now he doesn’t remember who he is most of the time. That can get a bit lonely sometimes.”

In her periphery, he nods thoughtfully. Neither of them speaks for what feels like an eternity.

Then the hand on her arm freezes, sliding off her slowly and leaving her skin icy in its absence. She reluctantly looks back up at him and nearly buckles under the intensity of his stare.

“It’s me, isn’t it.”

She hesitates, holds her breath, releases it. Then fingers at the necklace secured around her throat below her mother’s. “Who’d have thought you had a secret talent for stone carvings?”

“Is your name really Min?”

“No,” she whispers. “It’s Katara.”

“Katara,” he says, tasting the word on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name.”

She can’t stop the sob that bubbles from her lips this time. And then pale hands reach for her, the pads of his thumbs brushing at the tears spilling from her cheeks.

“I wish things were different,” he mumbles. “I wouldn’t mind knowing you.”

Her head drops to his shoulder, tears dampening his skin. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would really love to hear thoughts on this! <3


	7. Caught in the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko decides to blow off some steam at the Jasmine Dragon. 
> 
> ...So does Katara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smol break from the angst

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. I’ll be right with—”

His heartbeat falters. “Katara?”

She is radiant, wearing a look of surprise that mirrors his own. “Zuko? What are you doing here?”

He surges forward, clamping a hand over her mouth; blue eyes widen, skin flushes beneath his fingertips. He blinks, backing away.

“Um, sorry. My name’s Lee.” His eyes dart around the crowded tea shop before landing back on her, noting the bag of her belongings slung over her arm and quirking his brow. “I could ask you the same question.”

Her feet shuffle under his scrutiny. “Well, I was hoping your uncle could give me a job. To, uh, get away for a little while, I guess.” A wry smile stretches her face. “Is this where you go for those _confidential diplomatic visits_?”

* * *

Uncle is delighted, of course, and the very next day, Katara dons a Jasmine Dragon uniform for her first day on the job. Zuko has been tasked with showing her the ropes of tea serving, an undertaking Uncle had given to him with an infuriating twinkle in his eye.

She is close—too close—when he walks her through the tea menu. She leans over to read along while he stumbles through the names of his uncle’s brews, the long curtain of her hair feathering against his arm.

When he pauses to glance at her, she is beaming at him.

“What?”

Her cheeks redden when she’s caught, but the grin widens. “I missed you.”

Zuko’s throat tightens. “I missed you, too,” he breathes.

* * *

“She is a natural,” says Uncle conversationally one afternoon.

Zuko reluctantly tears his gaze away from where Katara flits around the shop, taking orders—only to meet that familiar knowing glint in his uncle’s eye. He grunts and gathers steaming cups onto a tray before making his way out to the correct table.

Katara catches his eye while she takes the order of a young couple seated by the front window. Her skin glows in the sunlight filtering in, a dimple creasing her cheek when she flashes him that disarming smile again—

“Hello? Kid? I said I’d like another cup of jasmine.”

“Oh—uh. Sorry, sir. That’ll be right out.”

Katara’s shoulders are shaking with mirth when she walks back to the kitchen.

* * *

Uncle holds up a rolled sheet of parchment bearing the seal of Zuko’s interior minister. “This is the third one today, Fire Lord. You can’t stay here forever.”

Zuko slumps against the counter, watching Katara wave the final customer of the day out the door. “I know, Uncle.”

A hand lands on his shoulder. “It’s best to get a move on while you still have the chance.”

He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But when he turns, Uncle has already retreated back to the kitchen.

* * *

“So, when are you planning to go back to Fire Lording?”

Uncle has claimed exhaustion—again—and retired early, leaving the two of them alone to do the nightly cleanup. Katara swirls soapy water around a stack of dishes while Zuko steams another pile dry.

He sighs gustily, shooting her a sideways glance. “Soon. My advisers have started sending royal missives to the tea shop.”

Katara chuckles. “They’re onto you, eh?”

There is an unmistakeable melancholy, there, scratching its way up from beneath her playful ribbing. She hands him a saucer, sending a shiver through him when her fingertips brush his.

“Yeah, I guess they are.”

There’s a long pause before next to him, Katara takes a deep, shuddering breath. The water sloshes back into the basin, and Zuko turns just in time for her to fling her arms around his neck. He is slapped with the scent of her soap, intermingling intoxicatingly with that of the tea that still clings to her hair.

Of their own volition, his arms wind tightly around her waist.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Her voice is muffled by his tunic.

The words he has been too afraid to _think_ , let alone say, spill out of him before he can stop himself.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Her lips crash to his with unexpected demand, nearly knocking him into the pile of dishes. He recovers quickly, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and spinning them until Katara’s back hits the opposite wall, a breathless giggle bubbling from her lips.

Zuko returns it—it’s a disbelieving bark of a laugh, low and hoarse. Because they’ve been teetering on the edge of _something_ for years, and it’s the Jasmine Dragon, of all things, that finally sends them careening over the edge.

And he is dizzy and feverish and coming more alive with each caress of her tongue.

Her teeth drag across his lower lip, and he groans into her mouth, the last vestiges of his restraint melting away. The girl under his wandering hands is alight, the sounds tearing out of her throat rendering him incapable of all coherent thought besides _Katara, Katara, Kat_ —

She gasps when he shoves his thigh between her legs, edging them apart with his knee as he presses her harder into the wall. Seizing her waist for purchase, he rocks his hips into her, eliciting a whimper from her swollen lips.

Katara matches his pace in earnest, gripping his hair at the nape and tugging him until he is flush against her, the thin fabric of their tea shop uniforms a flammable final hurdle.

His mouth finds her neck, sucking and nipping his way hungrily from her jawline down to the dip between her collarbone and shoulder, sliding her tunic aside with fumbling, smoking fingers.

“You have no idea,” he rasps between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted this. You.”

“I’m yours,” she breathes, and there is no time to ruminate on the implications of her words as desire pools white-hot at the base of his spine. He is blind with it, drunk on it; a single spark and he will combust with it. He pulls at the ties of her skirt—

—when a throat clears itself loudly from a few paces away.

“Don’t mind me,” says Uncle brightly as they spring apart, flushed and panting. “I’m just popping in for a nightcap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh


	8. Tiny Shivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko doesn't understand his own bodily reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy fluff
> 
> This chapter is for HeartWyrm. Today is her birthday! Happy Birthday friend <3

Being a firebender, Zuko was used to running hot. It had saved him countless times from an icy demise at both poles, from the chill of early Earth Kingdom spring, from windy nights at the Western Air Temple. His breath of fire had even protected him inside a prison cell _designed_ for firebenders.

It had done him wonders for getting into the good graces of the Avatar and his friends. There were only so many blankets to go around, and being the guy who didn’t _need_ a blanket went further than he ever thought it would. The deal was sealed when he began letting the younger kids use his body heat for warmth. Toph, in particular, took delight in using him to warm her feet at night.

If there was one thing Zuko could consistently rely on, it was his body heat.

So the first time Katara’s hand brushed his, he was justifiably rattled.

Zuko learned very quickly, once Katara had finally forgiven him, that she was a rather _touchy_ person. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t touched him before—there had been that time in the Crystal Catacombs, and the time he’d tied her to a tree all those months ago.

Why, then, was it suddenly impossible to temper the tiny shivers that shot up his spine whenever he was the target of one of Katara’s casual touches? Like clockwork—a hand on his shoulder, a shove on the arm, a skim of fingers—gooseflesh broke out across his skin, body shivering without his permission.

Even an attempt to more consciously regulate his body temperature could not counteract it. Without fail, as soon as her skin so much as grazed his, an uncontrollable shiver took hold of him.

Zuko wasn’t used to being cold. Zuko was a firebender. Zuko ran hot.

Zuko was avoiding Katara.

Of course, the more he ducked around her, the more insistent her touches became. Was she testing him? Did she know? Was it just some waterbending trick? Had she not actually forgiven him?

One afternoon, she cornered him on his way back from a training session with Aang. “Zuko, you’ve been avoiding me.”

He steeled himself. “Yes. Stop doing your weird waterbending tricks on me.”

Katara’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That thing you do—every time you touch me.”

A blush spread from the roots of her hair down to her neck. “Zuko, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She started to back away from him, but not before he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “This!”

He pointed accusingly at the gooseflesh that erupted there, then at her face. But her expression had changed.

“Zuko,” she said hesitantly, searching his face. “This isn’t a waterbending trick. You…get shivers whenever I touch you?”

Suddenly self-conscious, he dropped his hand. “Never mind, forget I said anything.” With that, he spun on his heel and started back toward the Fire Lord’s beach house.

“Zuko, wait—stop walking. Come back here!” She spun him around by the shoulders, placing both of her cool hands on his face. An involuntary shudder ripped its way down his body.

“Look,” she said, showing him her arm, where the fine hairs of it were raised with her own swath of gooseflesh. “Me, too.”

He felt his good eye widen. And something else, too. His heart was pounding. And he wasn’t cold.

“…What does that mean?”

Katara just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya enjoyed! Let me know in the comments, or just say hi. :) Something, idk


	9. Lock and Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is a locked vault. Iroh finds the key in the Si Wong Desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to fit a whole story here and it ended up being super rushed. Curse you, self-imposed word limits!!

In hindsight, Iroh could not pinpoint the exact moment in which the change had bloomed. But he was confident that the seed was planted when they found the Avatar’s waterbending companion stumbling in the sands of the Si Wong Desert, alone and dangerously dehydrated.

It had started as a cautious, mutually-beneficial agreement. The three of them would travel together; make it to Ba Sing Se in one piece. Then part ways, the waterbender not revealing their identities in exchange for a cease-and-desist regarding the hunt for the Avatar.

Zuko had been less than thrilled with the arrangement. In fact, Iroh was almost certain he had no intention of holding up his end of the deal—based on the open hostility he exhibited toward the young Master Katara.

It, too, crossed his mind that Katara might report them to the authorities the moment they arrived at Full Moon Bay.

But it was a long, long way to Ba Sing Se.

* * *

Iroh was a patient man, but even he could admit that the first few days of their time together were…grating.

“Don’t eat that, Uncle. She probably poisoned it.”

Iroh paused, berry halfway to his lips, glancing between his nephew and the now-fuming Katara.

“You _just_ watched me eat one!”

“You could have switched out the good ones for the poisonous ones in my uncle’s portion!”

“If there’s anyone here I’d poison, it’s not Iroh.”

“Uncle, did you hear that? She wants to poison me!”

With a sigh, Iroh popped the berry into his mouth.

* * *

“Why don’t you two try to channel your anger with each other into a friendly spar?” he tried one afternoon, pinching the bridge of his nose to quell the oncoming headache. They’d been locked in verbal blows over who would fetch the firewood for much longer than Iroh would consider reasonable.

Zuko whirled on him. “And why would we do that?”

He held his hands up placatingly. “I just think you could spend your energy doing something more productive.” Katara looked to Zuko and shrugged, but the young man next to her kept his sharp glare pointed at Iroh. “You could use the practice, Nephew,” he added.

The waterbender’s smirk was almost as loud as his nephew’s indignant spluttering.

* * *

The sparring became a nightly ritual—one that made their travels much more bearable. Some days, Iroh would follow the kids to a secluded clearing and watch, sipping his tea and offering Zuko corrections where needed.

Other days, he would lie back on his bedroll, listening to furious yells and the sizzling of opposing elements meeting from somewhere over the trees.

Eventually, his nephew would march out of the woods nursing water whip welts on his arms and face. Katara would emerge shortly after, unscathed thanks to her healing talents. They returned to camp in sullen silence most nights, retiring to their respective bedrolls without a word.

They fell so mechanically into the routine—walk all day, set up camp, spar, sleep, repeat—that Iroh almost didn’t notice when Katara began healing Zuko’s wounds, too.

* * *

If there was one thing Iroh knew intimately, it was that cold silence bred loneliness. So it did not entirely surprise him when, at some point in the final days before they arrived at Full Moon Bay, the cold silences became companionable. And in between the companionable silences came companionable conversations.

Iroh learned much about Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. And despite his best efforts to convey his disinterest, the ever-stoic Zuko kept his head quirked, eyes flicking, as Katara regaled them with the stories of her people.

* * *

When they made it beyond the passport checkpoint at Full Moon Bay and stepped aboard the ferry that would take them to new beginnings, something shifted.

And when Katara stood at the railing overlooking the sea, telling tales of ice floes and canoeing with her mother, Zuko stopped pretending he wasn’t listening.

* * *

The sun had just kissed the horizon when across the bay, the great Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se appeared in Iroh’s sightline.

Next to him lay two empty bedrolls.

* * *

Their arrival in Ba Sing Se’s Lower Ring was a jarring reminder that the young girl who had traveled this far with them was completely, utterly alone. So naturally, Iroh offered her a place to stay—just until she found her friends.

He wondered if her reluctant acceptance had anything to do with the whispered conversation he’d found her and his nephew engrossed in that morning on the bow of the ferry.

* * *

During the days, Iroh and Zuko worked in Pao’s tea shop while Katara searched the city for her friends. She would return in the afternoons, always a bit more dejected than at the onset of the day.

It didn’t escape Iroh’s notice when his nephew perked up the moment she entered the shop, nor when he began swiping cups of chamomile to bring to the secluded corner table at which she sat late into most evenings.

But he would be careful. He would not upset the balance of this delicate thing that had formed somewhere between Zuko’s furtive glances toward the corner of Pao’s tea shop.

* * *

The wall separating the two bedrooms of their tiny apartment was paper-thin. So thin that Iroh was jolted awake the first time Zuko snuck into Katara’s room.

“Katara, are you awake?”

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I…I’m sorry I woke you. I don’t know why—”

“Zuko, it’s okay. You can stay.”

“…What?”

“You can stay if you want.”

He did his best to tune them out after that, but he couldn’t help the grin that stretched his face in the darkness.

* * *

On a rainy evening, Katara strode into the tea shop, holding a damp piece of parchment with her face on it. The Avatar was looking for her—a development Iroh had expected for weeks. And given his recent observations, he wasn’t surprised at the matching stricken expressions painted across both his nephew’s and Katara’s faces.

But the determined set in the waterbender’s jaw when she looked Zuko squarely in the eye and said, “Come with me,” _did_ surprise him.

And when his beloved nephew looked to him and offered him the tiniest of smiles, his heart swelled against his ribcage.

Zuko turned the full intensity of his gaze onto Katara and nodded resolutely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love feedback on this one <3


	10. Featherlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is featherlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a little cracky but are we surprised? Not really

Katara approaches the dais and sinks into a low curtsy. “Your Lordliness.”

The Fire Lord scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She grins, clambering up the steps to plop down next to him, prodding him to move over and share the space on his cushion. “Neat party.”

Below them, the banquet hall is filled with Lord Zuko’s _personal guests_. Fire Nation aristocrats mingle in their finest finery, sipping the palace’s finest wines and plucking the finest finger foods from the finest golden trays carried by the finest uniformed servants.

Next to her, Zuko groans almost inaudibly. “I just want it to be over already.”

Katara lands a playful slap on his arm. “Don’t be such a downer. Let me get you a drink.”

She feels him stiffen. “No, but thanks.”

“No? Come on, I insist.” She makes to stand, but a warm hand on her wrist stops her.

“I’ve already had one glass of wine tonight, and it’s improper for a Fire Lord to be…improper at engagements.”

Katara balks, tracing her gaze from Zuko’s thick silken robes to the imposing mantle of the Fire Lord atop his shoulders, to the five-pronged flame glinting intimidatingly from his impeccable top knot, to the angry scar that contorts his face into a permanent scowl—

“Zuko. Are you a lightweight?”

His good eye widens, and he releases her wrist like it burned him. “What? No!”

She can’t hold back the laugh that tumbles out of her. “Oh my Spirits, Zuko. You are _definitely_ a lightweight.”

His glare is steely. “I’m _not_ a lightweight.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

* * *

Zuko’s head rests on Katara’s shoulder, the hair that escaped his top knot tickling her face. His crown is askew—one of its golden tongues of flame is digging into the skin of her neck.

A brave patron steps up to the dais, bowing deeply to the Fire Lord. “My Lord, on behalf of the Doi family, I thank you for your hospitality this evening.”

In response, Zuko shoots the nobleman a lopsided grin and a thumbs up. The man’s jaw drops, but he quickly recovers and retreats with a final incline of the head.

Katara hiccups. “Not a lightweight, huh?”

“Shuddup,” he slurs.

Absently, she scratches her fingers across his scalp, mussing his hair to the point of no return. “Zuko, what was this party even for?”

He sighs against her ministrations. “You know, I honestly don’t remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Falling With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara catches Zuko and there are consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another on-the-nose prompt interpretation set during 'The Southern Raiders'. 
> 
> content warning: this doesn't end well
> 
> Thanks Emily for the prompt help <3

She’s a waterbender, not an airbender. Maybe that’s why she falls.

One moment she is reaching up, pulling the Fire Prince out of freefall. The next, she is jerked over the side of Appa’s saddle.

Suddenly the only sounds are the air rushing around her and her own frantic breathing. It’s loud—too loud—and her stomach is in her throat and—

Her mind catches up. Far above, the sky bison soars—the sky bison dives. The sky bison will not make it in time.

She blinks the water from burning eyes and meets the horrorstruck gaze of the firebender still attached to her hands, an invisible force keeping them glued together. His mouth is forming words, but they are lost to the wind.

Time stands still, yet the Western Air Temple grows smaller and smaller above them. She is weightless, yet gravity pulls her toward terminal velocity.

There is no lamentation on what could have been, no final confrontation, no regret, no anger. These are luxuries.

Blind, paralyzing fear is reality. And Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai. The source of much of her suffering and the very reason she is plummeting from the sky.

But in this liminal space, he is nothing and no one. He is a boy with inky hair, whipping like angry seas. She can see the moment the acceptance sparks in his golden eyes. It catches alight, the blustering winds stoking it until it consumes her, as well.

She doesn’t know exactly when he pulled her into his arms—or maybe she was the one who pulled. His muscles have gone slack. In these final peaceful moments, she drinks in the smell of his sweat.

His voice rings out somewhere through the fog, his breath tickling her ear. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

She closes her eyes and squeezes him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe
> 
> ps if you liked this and haven’t done so already, pls drop a kudos for praise starved author <3


	12. Living Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara talks Zuko back from the proverbial ledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this very quickly, blegh

“Talk to me.”

Zuko inclines his head to meet her eyes, his skin alabaster in the moonlight streaming in from their balcony. “Hmm?”

Katara huffs, placing the scroll she had been half-reading on the bedside table before settling back against his side under the silken sheets. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling with that broody look for the last ten minutes.”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles, shimmying down to press a kiss to her shoulder.

“Zuko.” She props herself on her elbow. “It’s not nothing. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

He gives her a sidelong glance, then sighs, snuffing out the sconce on the wall with a flick of his fingers. Katara waits for him to speak, but he is silent for a long time after that. So long, that she is fairly certain he wants her to think he fell asleep.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that pro-Ozai rally down by the harbor today, would it?” she prods.

And by the way he sinks just a bit further into his pillow, she knows she has him.

His voice is barely above a whisper. “What if it’s too late?”

Katara shifts closer, laying her head to rest against his stomach and peeking up at him through her lashes, silently prompting him to elaborate.

He’s back to scrutinizing the ceiling. “What if my people have been poisoned by hatred for too long? There can’t be a path forward if that isn’t the will of the people. What if the Fire Nation can’t be redeemed?”

“Oh, Zuko.” She feels around in the dark until she finds his hand, lacing their fingers. “I know how frustrating this has been for you, and I hate seeing you feel this way. But that just isn’t true.”

Her head rises with his intake of breath and falls with the shaky sigh that follows it. “I want to agree with you, but there just hasn’t been enough progress. If anything, it’s only getting worse. Since when is _globalism_ such a dirty word?”

“Hmm. Since always. I see your point.” Katara tilts her head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his navel. “But you seem to be forgetting one thing.”

His eyes glint when they flick down to her. “What’s that?”

Her free hand feathers across his skin, her lips and tongue following in its wake. “You,” she whispers between kisses, “are living proof,” trails her lips up his stomach, “that people can change.” Her mouth finds the burst of scar tissue on his chest, ridged and sparking with the truth of her words. “These things just take time.”

As she moves further up his body, his muscles relax under her touch. “Ozai is your _father_ , and you still did the right thing in the end.” His Adam’s apple bobs against her lips. “The people will come around. So long as you give them a chance.”

Zuko’s fingers slide under her chin, tilting it up until she is looking into honey eyes. “When did you get so wise?”

“You say that like this is the first time I’ve had to talk you out of your own head.” She quirks a brow, daring him to challenge her.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Thank you, Katara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya liked it, let me know! If ya didn't, let me know but be nice about it because I am weak


	13. Spine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fire Lord's mantle is a heavy burden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another dialogue-only one. Huge thanks to Emily for the help on this one!!! <3

“Okay, what’s your problem?”

“What’s _your_ problem? You can’t just barge into my chambers unannounced.”

“The guards let me through. But that’s not important. Explain yourself.”

“…It’s heavy, okay? The mantle.”

“Yeah. I’m well aware that you have a tough job. The heavy burdens of world leadership and all. But that’s no excuse to be such an asshole all the time. We—your _friends_ —came all the way here to see you, and you’ve done nothing but mope—”

“No, Katara. It’s _heavy_. As in, I need you to help me take this off, or I might throw out my back.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let me just…oh, _spirits_ , Zuko. How—I can’t even lift it! You wear this thing all day?”

“Yeah. Do you—I can call for the royal dressers. They were probably on their way but didn’t come in when the guard told them I had a visitor.”

“No, no. I got it. Just—just lift your arms—”

“Ow, Katara. You can’t just— _ow_! Okay, stop. _Stop._ ”

“Zuko, how on _earth_ —this is ridiculous. Why haven’t you had someone fix this?”

“Because every Fire Lord before me has worn it just fine.”

“You aren’t every Fire Lord before you.”

“…Whatever.”

“So _this_ is what’s got you so crabby. And why your posture’s so bad.”

“…I don’t know what to do. This— _ow—_ it’s starting to actually hinder my day-to-day.”

“Zuko. Just swallow your pride and tell them to make a lighter mantle.”

“I can’t—fuck! _Ow_!”

“Okay, new tactic. Lie on your back.”

“…On the bed?”

“Yes,on the bed. _Really_ , Zuko?”

“Let me just call the royal—”

“Do you want to get this thing off, or not?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. Just, sort of, wiggle your shoulders—and…got it! Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Zuko.”

“Hmm?”

“That doesn’t sound okay.”

“…My back really hurts, Katara.”

“Tell you what. If you tell whoever you need to tell that you need a lighter mantle made, I’ll stick around and heal you every day until it’s finished.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course, I would. And for the record, I would bet anything that the previous Fire Lords complained about this behind closed doors, but none of them had the spine to say something about it.”

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Now sit up and, um. Lift your shirt.”

“Right now?”

“Zuko.”

“Okay, okay…”

“All the way.”

“All the way off?”

“Be professional about this. I am.”

“I am!”

“In a traditional Water Tribe healing massage, the patient is completely naked under a sheet.”

“...You don’t say.”

“Your shirt off will do.”

“Yeah. I figured…ouch!”

“Oop! Sorry…Tui and La, you are really tight.”

“Yeah—oh, wow. That feels good.”

“Good. So now that you’ve decided to stop being a grump, will you come eat dinner with the rest of us? Toph will probably find another way to force you out of here if you say no.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll join. And um. Sorry I’ve been so...yeah. Thank you, Katara. I appreciate this. You.”

“Any time, Zuko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp there you have it. Let me know your thoughts!


	14. One at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara heals Zuko for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny bit late on this one, sorry! This is a companion to day nine's 'Lock and Key' drabble. If you haven't read it I recommend reading it for context purposes, but this one (kinda) works on its own.
> 
> also i wrote this at 4 am and it shows oop

She can’t pinpoint precisely when the exchanges of vicious taunts start to feel more like teasing banter.

“That the best you can do?”

Across the clearing, Zuko’s grin is feral. “Don’t test me, waterbender.”

And with a sweeping kick, he sends a burst of flame hurtling toward her feet, knocking her off balance. But she adjusts, shifting into a new stance and pulling most of the water from the nearby creek into a wave. It catches her, and she surfs it directly into the firebender’s space, dragging him underwater. Katara smirks to herself before somewhere beneath her, the wave sizzles and dissipates, sliced in half by fire. She’s sent tumbling, landing facefirst in the grass.

Next to her, Zuko coughs and splutters. “Again,” he pants.

She rolls over, taking in his bedraggled appearance. “You look like a drowned elephant rat. Let’s call it a night.”

He scoffs. “If I’m the rat, then your hair is its nest.”

In answer, she wraps one last water whip around his ankle and yanks for good measure. He topples over with a yelp and lands next to her in the grass, groaning.

He is closer than usual—close enough that Katara sees the dozens of both new and half-healed welts—some of them open, bleeding—littering his face and arms. One particularly nasty cut slashes right through his scar. And she’s seen it all before, she _has_ , but some part of her must have decided that tonight would be the night that she _notices._

He catches her staring. “What?”

“Does it ever hurt? Your scar?” The words are out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even thought them.

Zuko turns, angling the mangled skin on the left side of his face away from her. “We’re not going to talk about that.”

In a flash, he’s on his feet. Hesitates for a moment, then reaches a hand out. He still doesn’t look at her when she takes it and allows him to help her up.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, but Zuko is already walking back toward camp.

Maybe it’s the way the moonlight harshens the marks she left on his skin that compels her to call after him. “Hey, Zuko? Wait.”

* * *

Zuko perches stiffly on a rock at the edge of the creek, eyes narrowed on the water gloving Katara’s hands.

“We’ll do this one at a time. Which one hurts the most?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

She can’t suppress her eye roll. “Fine. We’ll start with arms.”

Without further preamble, Katara presses her hands to the pale skin of his forearm. Zuko flinches under her touch but doesn’t quite pull away.

She seeks out his chi paths, breathes, and feels the skin begin to knit itself back together. Zuko is evidently unable to stifle a gasp, and she can’t help the tiny smile that stretches her lips. An almost _human_ reaction from the Fire Prince.

Katara shifts closer and slides further up his arm, brushing his hand with hers as he pulls the sleeve of his tunic aside. His taut muscles slacken under her touch, but the heat of his stare burning through her eyelids makes it rather difficult to concentrate on healing.

After making quick work of the other arm—most of the wounds are shallow and easy to mend—she quirks a brow at his tunic, a silent request that he remove it. Even in the dim evening light, the flush of his cheeks is in stark contrast with his pallid complexion as he slides the fabric over his head and tosses it aside.

Katara can feel the heat rising to her own cheeks when she calls new water to her hands and places them over the bruising on his stomach. She chances a glance at the firebender while she works—then bites back a laugh at the utterly awestruck expression he wears, face bathed in the blue glow of her healing hands.

It’s intimate, this—healing another person—in ways she hadn’t expected. Sure, she had healed a wound on Aang’s arm that day he accidentally burned her all those months ago. But _this_ —Zuko’s heartbeat jumping under her touch, the contractions of his diaphragm, the synchrony of her movements with his body’s pathways—was something else entirely.

When she reaches the welts along his neck, his throat bobs under her hands. And in the deafening silence, it occurs to her that he is utterly at her mercy.

She decides to break it. “Why do you do it?”

Zuko’s voice is hoarse, eyes shadowed. “Do what?”

“Try to capture Aang—the Avatar.” The words are conversational because it really doesn’t _matter_ why he does it. At least, it _shouldn’t._

But when it comes to Zuko, part of her believes that the _why_ could be vitally important.

“Because I had to,” he says simply. Katara doesn’t miss his use of the past tense.

And while his explanation is likely anything _but_ simple, she has the sense not to prod further. It will still be a few weeks until they reach Ba Sing Se, after all. She has time.

“I’ve never healed a face before, so just…hold still, okay?”

She thinks she sees him bite the inside of his cheek when he nods, amber eyes sliding shut.

With a steadying breath, Katara starts in on the good half of his face. He shudders when the icy water comes in contact with his skin but relaxes into her touch. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, casting shadows across the healing light.

It isn’t long before she is pulling away again, gathering one last stream of fresh water. Sucking in a gulp of air, she slowly, gently presses a palm to the cut splitting his scar. A shaky sigh escapes his lips, his breath hot against her forehead.

“This okay?” she whispers.

He chews his lip. “Mm.”

Even through the sheen of liquid, Katara can feel the ridges of the damaged skin beneath her fingers. The cut heals quickly enough, but she finds herself lingering. Maybe if she just—

“Don’t bother. You can’t heal it.” The quiet resignation in his voice sends something like despair into the pit of her stomach.

Katara backs off entirely, putting space between them again. In the absence of his warmth, she notices for the first time that the night is cold. His eyes crack open, something unreadable flashing in them before he averts his gaze to pick up his tunic.

Without another word, they start back toward camp.

“I didn’t get to your legs,” she realizes aloud.

In her periphery, Zuko inclines his head toward her. “Tomorrow?”

She attempts to conceal her grin. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

That night, as she slips into her bedroll, Iroh sends her a knowing look across the dying embers of the cook fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know thoughts. Drop a kudos, a comment, an anon ask on Tumblr - just say hi, I want to hear from you!


	15. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Southern Water Tribe Ambassador's diplomatic visits coincidentally coincide with sightings of the Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLICIT. LINKED SEPARATELY BELOW.

I am now extremely behind on my drabbles, I know. That's because I spent the last five days writing **[THIS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208343),** which is definitely not a drabble but was written for day 15!

NOTE THAT THIS IS AN **EXPLICIT** **ONE-SHOT. CLICK AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.**

Hope you enjoy!


	16. Can You Feel Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko feels another presence in his dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're catching up. Cranking the next few drabbles out pretty quickly so excuse the sloppiness hehe.

The dreams always start the same.

He walks the path along the edge of a rocky cliff. It’s the one his mother brought him to as a child on the rare occasion they visited her family in the countryside. A lush expanse of greenery extends out to his left, as far as the eye can see. In the distance, koala sheep graze tall reed sweet grasses. To his right rests the ocean, a sparkling sapphire in Agni’s morning light. A fierce wind ripples the fields of grass, but it does not touch his skin. An eerie stillness follows him like a shadow.

Some days, he walks toward something. Other days, he walks away from something. He doesn’t know what.

All he knows is the fear coursing through his veins, a panic tightening in his chest that makes him want to shout or run or do _something._ It consumes him, this sense that something is _wrong._ But the grass ripples and the ocean sparkles and all is still, and his feet will not allow him to do anything but stroll the cliffside trail.

It should be peaceful, this. But peace is far from his mind.

The first time he hears the voice, it startles him awake, gasping and frantic. But he is alone in his overlarge bed in his overlarge bedroom.

And like all things in this never-ending recurring dream sequence, the first time is not the last time.

He hears it every night now. Can almost feel the breath tickling his ear as it whispers to him.

“Jump, Zuko.”

He tries to ask it what it means, but his voice is lost to the sands of the dream.

“Jump, Zuko.”

With each passing night, he becomes increasingly certain that he’s heard that voice in his waking life.

“Jump, Zuko.”

It’s not a disembodied voice, he realizes. It’s another presence, somewhere in this purgatory. He attempts to seek out the source of it, but to no avail. It is as if it has seeped into his skull, buried itself in the recesses of his mind.

Until it isn’t.

“Can you feel me, Zuko?”

He blinks. Stops walking. He _stops walking._

“Can you feel me? I’m right here. Jump.”

The voice is coming from the ocean.

“Jump, Zuko.”

A sense of calm settles over him like a blanket for the first time since these dreams began months ago. Gone is the fear constricting his chest, replaced only by a cool determination—its origins unknown.

So he breathes in, breathes out, and jumps. And the wind _does_ whip against his skin as he plunges toward the sea below.

He wakes up.

He makes a decision.

* * *

Three days later, he puts a face to the voice when she threatens his life in the ruins of the Western Air Temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	17. Feelin' Sentimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fire Lord is a doting dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in about two minutes and I think that speaks to the quality of this but I hope you enjoy this itty bitty speed drabble anyway!

Zuko never thought of himself as a particularly sentimental person. There were pieces of his life he’d rather not remember, pieces of _himself_ that he’d worked for a long time to bury. He left sentiment to his uncle, to his wife.

But the arrival of his daughter changed his tune.

“Zuko. Really?”

Katara held up the small glass container, brow furrowed with disbelief at the little clump of hair resting at the bottom of it.

He looked up from his report, glanced between his wife and the hair. “What? It’s not uncommon for parents to keep locks of hair from their children’s haircuts. I read it in the parenting scroll.”

She bit her lip, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was holding back laughter at his expense. “You’re right, Zuko. It’s pretty normal to keep a lock of hair or two from the _first_ haircut.”

Katara set the container on his desk, rotating it until the label faced him. Zuko felt a blush creep up his neck upon reading the words written there. “This was Kya’s _32nd_ haircut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meep


	18. Obvious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph sees what Sokka cannot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a companion drabble to days 9 (Lock and Key) and 14 (One at a Time), but definitely can stand on its own. Another one written..very quickly. Haha

Sokka is awoken by the sound of a snicker. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, attempting to adjust to the darkness. The chirping of cavehoppers is the only thing that penetrates his ears.

Just when he decides he imagined the noise, something solid smacks him in the ribs. “Ow!”

“Shut up,” Toph’s voice hisses from somewhere nearby. “Look.”

“I can’t see anything that isn’t two feet in front of me,” he grumbles, rubbing his ribcage. That is definitely going to bruise.

She scoffs. “I can’t see anything at _all_ , but I don’t need to see to know what’s going on over there.” Sokka can vaguely make out her hand in the dark, pointing in the general direction of where their friends sleep on other side of the cave.

“What are you talking about?”

Another elbow to the ribs, but Toph talks over his yelp of indignation. “Man. What’s it like not being able to see with your feet?” She sighs, confusing Sokka even further. “Well, I’m not gonna spell it out for you. I think it’s obvious enough that even _you'll_ figure it out eventually.”

Either he’s missed something important, somehow, or he’s dreaming. He is leaning toward the latter. “Figure _what_ out?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Toph does not offer any further explanation than that.

And just before he slips back into unconsciousness, a grunt that sounds a lot like Zuko rings out faintly from the other side of the cave, followed by a shushing noise, and a giggle that sounds suspiciously like…

Nah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	19. Crashing Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko was never a fan of the ocean, but he does love a waterbender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble December? More like Drabble February...am I right? *sweats*

“Don’t you love that sound?”

Zuko glances over at her. She leans over the railing’s edge, smiling face turned toward the sun, hair whipping in the wind and the spray of the sea. “What sound?”

“The ocean. The waves hitting the boat.”

He swallows and shifts his gaze back out over the water. In the distance, a sea raven dives down and plucks a fish from the surf. _No._ “Yes.”

Katara leans around the railing until she is blocking his line of sight. The new angle has the sun backlighting her smirking face rather distractingly. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He avoids her searching eyes. “Being stuck on a boat for three years doesn’t exactly warm you to the ocean.” He doesn’t say more than that, but Katara’s prolonged silence tells him she’s filling in the blanks. She always does.

Something in her expression changes before she steps away and grips his shoulders, turning him to face her. “You didn’t have to agree to come on this trip with me, Zuko.”

He meets her gaze steadily, this time. “You’re right, I didn’t. Now, do you want to have lunch? I had the staff pack stewed sea prunes.”

She chews her lip, clearly unhappy with the change of subject, but she doesn’t push the matter. “Ocean kumquats.”

Zuko smiles. “Nope. They got you the real deal, this time.”

It’s only a small gesture. He wasn’t even the one who went to the trouble of _getting_ the sea prunes. But he can’t help the swell of pride in his chest when Katara throws her arms around his neck. Her voice is muffled by his hair. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

She smells like the ocean. She smells like Katara.

He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, then reluctantly lets her go to seek out the picnic basket he’s kept below deck. Just before he ducks into the hatch, he watches Katara climb atop the railing and lift her arms, bending a mist around their boat into a glittering sunbow.

As the hatch shuts behind him, he allows his eyes to slide shut for a moment. The slap of the waves against the hull is almost comforting the more he listens to it.

Maybe he can learn to love the ocean, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	20. So Sublime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sublime (verb): to pass directly from the solid to the vapor state

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my last drabble for ZKDD (for now). Sorry these last two were so late. Thanks again to princess_zel and antarcticas for putting on this event!

Water is the element of change, the only element that can exist in three distinct states of matter. It is unpredictable, untamable—to anyone but a master waterbender.

Katara is accustomed to being in control. But water is wild, and even for a master, there are limits to control. A master waterbender learns not to fear her element’s unpredictability—something she is admittedly still working on.

Liquid is easiest to bend to her will, its fluidity mirrored by the shifting movements of her stances. Ice is straightforward—freeze, melt, freeze again, with a crook of her fingers. Vapor is difficult. Once it’s formed, she loses her grip on her element; is forced to relinquish her control.

Vapor. Mist. Steam. That third state of matter—it has always been the one thorn in her shoulder, that one final piece that despite all of her years of training, she would never quite get right. It’s all down to basic science, but still more frustrating than she cares to admit.

Until now, at least.

These days, she doesn’t mind that third state of matter so much. These days, she doesn’t mind relinquishing control.

Add heat to ice, and it melts. But when ice is hit with her firebender’s heat, there is no water to be found. Beneath moonlit sheets, she embodies her element, solid and cold. But when he sets her alight from the inside, she skips right over the fluidity of the water that she bends to her will, straight to steam—the very thing she has no hold over. At Zuko’s touch, she doesn’t just melt; she sublimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now on [Tumblr](https://formerlygoldilocks.tumblr.com/) —come say hi!


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